Running
Cures
the Serpent’s
Sting
CONTAGIOUS In all its stages completely ni
BLOOD
POISON stinate sores and ulcers ft)
[
—yield to Its healing powers (
I
It removes the poison and builds np the system
Aju^u*b.e uc*tlse oa th< diwase and its treaunentl/J
/
SWIFT SPECIFIC CO., A Ganta, Ga. J|
0. R. & N. CO
E. McNEILL, Receiver.
TO THE
fli
■At
GIVES THE CHOICE OF
TWO TRANSCONTINENTAL
ROUTES
GREAT
■
VIA
VIA
SPOKANE
Minneapolis
DENVER
OMAHA
AND
ANO
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ST. PAUL
LOW RATES TO ALL
EASTERN CITIES.
OCEAN 'STEAMERS
Leave Portland Every 8 Days
• • POR • •
SAN 4- FRANCISCO
For full detail« call on
C. A. WALLACE, McMinnville, Or.
Or Address:
W. H HI BI BI UT,
Gen. Pasa. Agt.
POHTL AN», OK.
EAST AND SOUTH
VIA
The Shasta Route
OF THE
Expresa Traina Leave Portland Dally
L eave .
arrive .
Portland.......... 6:15 P M | ßan Francisco..10:45 A M
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Above trains stop at all stations from Portland to
Albany Inclusive. Also Tangent, Shedds, Hal
sey, Harrisburg, Junction City, Irving. Eugene
and all stations from Roseburg to Ashland Inclu­
sive.
Roseburg .Hail Daily.
LEAVE:
ARRIVE:
Portland......... 8:80 A M I Roseburg.........5.50 P M
Roseburg........ 7:00 AM | Portland......... 4.30 PM
DINING CARS ON OGDEN ROUTE.
PULLMRN *
BUFFET.
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ANO
SECOND CLASS SLEEPING CARS,
Attached to all Through Trains.
BETWEEN
.West Side Division.
PORTLAND AND CORVALLIS
Mail Train Daily, (Except Sunday.)
7STÂM' tv
10:16 A M Lv
12:16 P M Ar
Portland
McMinnville
Corvallis
Ar
Lv
Lv
5:35 P M
3:01 P M
1:00 P M
At Albany and Corvallis connect with
trains of Oregon Pacific Railroad,
Express Train Daily, (Except Sunday.)
T«o p M Lv
7:15 P M Lv
7:26 P M Ar
Portland
St. Joseph
McMinnville
Ar 1 8:2ó A M
Lv 1 5 58 A M
Lv| 55) A M
By WALTER BESAHT.
One day Paul, the junior counsel in a
case of no apparent importance, found
himself unexpectedly called upon to
maintain a legal position against the
opinion of the court. He displayed in
his argument so much ability and
knowledge: of the law as to call forth an
expression of admiration from the judge
himself. I was myself present in my
quality of briefless barrister. On the
termination of the case we came out and
stood for a few minutes talking over the
point which had been raised. Paul’s
senior join«! us and congratulated him.
prophesying thnt his table would never
be without briefs niter that morning’s
work. Others came to shake hands with
him, and there was quite a little scene
of congratulation and triumph. In the
midst of our talk I saw, bearing straight
down upon us, with the evident inten­
tion of speaking, no other than that ter­
rible ex-Q. C. He was clearly half
drunk. One of the men among us whis­
pered in disgust, “Good heavens, here’s
that miserable man Brandish!” Every­
body stood aside to make way for him,
as one makes way for a leper. Worse
than a leper in the courts of Lincoln’s
Inn is a man who has been disbarred.
As well should a man who has been
stripped of his commission and drummed
out of his regiment for cowardice show
himself again upon parade.
This man, then, with a half drunken
laugh, walked straight to Paul and held
out his hand.
“How are you, Paul, my boy?” he
cried, addressing him independently by
his Christian name. * ‘ Isabel quite well?’ ’
Paul tunied perfectly white. “How
dare you,” he cried, “how dare you
I speak to me? How dare you address me
by my Christian name?”
“How dare I? Ho, hoi Not use his
Christian namo to the man who married
my dear old friend’s only daughter?
How do you do, Sir John?” He ad­
dressed one of the group, a well known
counsel of very high standing and ex­
solicitor general, who made no reply.
“Gentlemen, you know me, all of you.
I have been in court today, and I de­
clare I never heard a better argument
than my young friend’s here. Why, I
never put a point better myself. ”
“Your friend! Yours!” cried Paul,
with a gesture of loathing.
“Come, come!” cried the man. “This
is rather too much. Why, Paul, you for­
get that you married the only daughter
of my old friend, Sir Robert Reeve Byrne,
baronot, whom I defended. You remem­
ber my famous defense, gentlemen. 1
am sure it nearly pulled him through,
but not quite, for he got his five years’
penal servitude. ”
Then there was a dead silence, and
nobody dared to look at his neighbor,
As for me, I understood it all. The
case of Sir Robert Byrne was a cause
oelebre. He had been, I remembered,
defended by Mr. Brandish, Q. C., with
marvelous skill and ingenuity. My
delightful host was no other than that
famous baronet then, and the rest of his
guests—were they also what the cx-Q.
C. had described them?
Paul recovered himself. “It is quite
true,” he said proudly. “I married the
daughter of Sir Robert Byrne, but this
man I know nothing of, except that he
is a rogue. ”
Mr. Brandish looked round him. He
saw on every face loathing clearly writ­
ten. Half drunk though he was, he was
cowed. He said no more, but slunk
away.
It was Sir John himself who laid his
hand upon Paul’s shoulder and said
kindly: "We are all sorry you should
have been troubled by this scoundrel,
whom I once called my friend. As for
your private affairs, but of them we
need not speak. ”
They all murmured something, the
group broke up, and I took Paul by the
arm and walked with him to his cham­
bers. He threw his papers upon the
table and sank into a chair.
“It is all over,” he groaned, “My
career is finished. ”
“Paul, this is absurd. ”
“No, ” he said. “I have already made
np my mind what will happen. These
tnen are my private friends, they are
Through Tickets to all points in Eastern
States, < iuiada and Europe can be obtained at
lowest ra.es from G. A. Wilcox, Agent, McMinn­
ville.
E. P. ROGERS,
Asst. G. F. A P. A., Portland, Or.
R. KOEFI.ER, Manager.
A Shower of Yellow Clay.
LOCAL DIRECTORY
CHURCHES
B aptist —Services Sunday 11 a. m. and
7:30p. iu ; Sunday school 9:50 a m.; the
young people’s society 6:15 p tn
Prayer
meeting Thursday 7:30 p. m. Covenant
meeting first Sat each month 2:00 p. m.
M bthodist E piscopal —Services every
Sabbath 11:00 a. m. and 7:30 p. ni. Sunday
school 9:30 a m. Prayer meeting 7:00 p
tn. Thursday.
L ke T hompson , Pastor.
C umb . P besbytebian —Services every Sab­
bath 11:00a in and 7:30 p. m. Sunday
school 9:30 a. m. Y. P. C. E.. Sunday 6:30
p. m. Prayer meeting Thursday, 7:30 p. m.
E E. T hompson , Pastor.
C hristian —Services every Sabbath 11:00
a. m and 7:30 p. m. Sunday school 10
a. m. Young people's meeting at 6:30 p. m.
H. A. D enton , Pastor.
S t . J ames C atholic —First st., between
G and H. Sunday school 2:30 p. m. Ves­
pers 7:30. Services once a month.
W. R. H ogan , Pastor
SECRET ORDERS.
K nowles C haptub X o , 12, O. E. S.—Meets a
Masonic hall tue tirsi ano third Monday evening
in each mouth. Visiting members eordiallv in­
vited
C. H. MCKINNEY, Sec.
MRS. C. W. TALMAGE. W. M.
Cvrrra P ost N o . S—Meets the second and fourth
Saturday of each month in Union hall at 7:36
p. m. on second Saturday and at 10:30 a. m. on
ith Saturday. All members of the order are
cordially invited to attend our meetings.
B. F. C lvbine , Commander.
J. A. P eckham , Adjt.
W <’ T IL—Meets on evers Fri-
lay, in Wright’s hall at 3 o'c.ock p m.
L. T. L. at 3 p. tu.
M rs A. J W hitmokk , Pres
C lama U E ssor . Sec’y
think what he would look like in prison
dress, but I never could. There was an­
other side to him, though. I saw it on
the day when I asked him for his daugh­
ter. ‘Do you, ’ he said, ’know the story
of my past?’ I assured him that he need
not open a painful chapter, because I
knew everything. And then—then he
broke down, burst into a fit of weeping
like any woman and thanked God sol­
emnly that I had come to take his
daughter away from him. ‘For myself, *
he said, ‘I suppose I am sorry. That mat­
ters nothing. But for my children’s
sake, and especially for my daughter’s
sake, I am—sometimes I am mad. ’ I
think that when he was left alone after
our marriage he was really mad, and I
am nearly sure that he killed himself.
However, that is done with. Isabel must
not know what has happened. And she
must not be mado to suspect that our
friends, her new friends, know her se­
cret. Women are not always considerate
toward each other. I must think—I
must think what is best to do. ”
Next morning I was not surprised to
receive a note from Isabel. She said that
her husband was suddenly prostrated
with some kind of a nervous breakdown,
though he looked very well, and that
the doctor ordered him to give up all
work, break off all engagements and go
away for three months at least. They
were going the same day.
The three months became six, and the
six became a year. They were traveling
about in unfrequented places, where
Paul’s health would not suffer from
noise and talk of travelers. They staid
only in towns where there were no Eng­
lish residents, and so on. Then Paul
wrote to me that he had given np his
chambers and bought a oottage iu the
country, where he proposed to stay, his
health, he said, being too wretched to
think of his practicing any more.
I made many visits to the cottage. It
was three or four miles from any vil­
lage or house. It was on the seaside,
and they had a boat. They had no chil­
dren, and the only people who ever vis­
ited them were the family of the nearest
clergyman, who oame often to them.
Isabel was their friend, unpaid govern­
ess, adviser, everything.
Remark here a very strange thing.
This man, my friend Paul, to whom at
the outset life without success would
have seemed intolerable, who gave up
the most promising prospects solely on
his wife’s account, who was endowed
with every quality which success re­
quires, was perfectly happy in this ob­
scure retreat He wanted no other kind
of life. To sail in his boat, to wander
on the sands, to meditate in his garden,
always with Isabel beside him, was
enough for him. His love for Isabel was
absorbing and sufficient for both.
They lived in this way for five and
twenty years. Then the greatest possible
misfortune fell upon Paul, for Isabel
eaught a fever and died. Then Paul be­
gan to break up. He was only just past
50 and should have been in the vigorous
enjoyment of his manhood, but he be­
gan to fail. In the last months of his
life I staid a great deal with him, and
he talked freely about his old ambitious
and their sudden end.
“I am sure,” ho said, “that I did
right in giving all up. Sooner or later
Isabel would have- found out—would
have been made to feel somehow—that
other people knew the truth. In such a
case the only safety lies in flight. ”
“But if you had staid your own career
was certain. ”
“Perhaps — with the explanation
whenever my name was mentioned,
‘You know, I suppose, that he married
Sir Robert Byrne’s daughter. ’ And she
would have heard it. ”
“Tell me, ”1 said, “who were the
residents of the village—the people we
met at dinner”-----
“I do not know. Why do you ask?”
Evidently Isabel knew nothing of
them. Perhaps, after al), the wicked
old man lied about them.
“I am glad to think,” Paul went on,
“that we never met any of them after­
ward, because perhaps they knew.
Thank God, never, never for a moment
after the marriage did Isabel feel that
her father' s sins were visited upon her. ’ ’
“Why, Paul,” I said, “they were,
but you shifted the burden to your own
shoulders and bore it for her. Did Isabel
ever learn why you left London?”
“No, she never knew, and she never
suspected. The man Brandish died a
very little while after of drink, I be­
lieve. ”
“And you newer regretted all that
you lost?”
“Never—not f<jr a moment. ”—Long­
man’s Magazine.
"It is all over,” he groaned. “Jfy career
is finished.”
part of our social circle, for Isabel, poor
child, had no friends of her owil They
are good fellows, and at first they will
say that it doesn’t make any difference
and think it too. But then, you see,
there are the women. They will resent
the thing and show their resentment
too. Isabel must be spared this at any
cost Go away now, my dear fellow,
and leave me to think. ”
“For heaven’s sake, Paul,” I said
“do nothing rash. Think of your pro­
fession first. ”
“No, ” he replied. “Isabel must be
first thought of. ’ ’
I lingered awhile unwilling to leave
him.
“Now you know all, ” he said. “It is
something like a cloud, isn’t it?”
“Is it possible that the courtly and
polished”-----
“Quite possible. Sometimes I tried to
On April 4, 1892, Marion county, la.,
and especially that portion of it contin­
gent to Knoxville, the county seat, was
treated to a bath of thin, yellow mud.
The cloud came up from the south
southeast, but did not appear to be the
result of any unusual meteorological
disturbance. Tho barometer did not in­
dicate cyclonic conditions, and the great
mud vehicle which rolled across tho
ridge which separates English and
Whitebreast creeks was unaccompanied
with either wind, thunder or lightning.
In some places in the county thin, sticky
clay covered everything to the depth of
about one-tenth of an inch, making a
general cleaning up necessary after the
“shower” was over. The Knoxville
Journal of April 6, two days after the
mud shower, contained the following
among its locals, “We had a regular
mud shower here on Monday morning,
the mud falling a few minutes only, but
while it lasted it literally plastered tho
south sides of buildings and covered
the windows and the people upon the
streets with a coat of thin yellow clay. ”
—St. Louis Republic.
An Armless Nimrod«
An armless Nimrod is the wonder of
the people and tho envy of all the sports­
men of Bucks county. He is John
Simon of Zion Hill, and his prowess is
something marvelous. Simon’s arms
were ground off above the elbows in
machinery a few years ago, but his love
of hunting spurred his ingenuity, and
he overcame his seemingly insurmount-
, able obstacle. He straps his single bar­
rel breechloading hammerless gun to his
right arm, and when he sights game he
swings the piece over the stump of his
left arm, takes quick aim and fires, gen­
erally with telling effect His mode of
loading is as unique as his shooting. He
carries the shells in his hat, and when
he wants one bows low, drops his hat
on the ground, pulls out the empty
shell with his teeth and in a similar
manner loads, then pushing his head
into his hat to re-cover his head.
Despite his affliction, Simon has done
some of the best shooting in Bucks coun­
ty the past year, his record standing: 16
opossums, 5 pheasants, 5 dozen black­
birds, 37 rabbits and 21 quail.—Phila-
i delphia Record.
MACHA.
By ROSA MULHOLLAND.
There is a lone upper world among
the Connemara hills seldom visited by
any wayfarer from the ordinary paths
of life. Mountains form bulwarks
around it; the gates into it are narrow
defiles between rugged crags; the cen­
ters of its silent valleys are deep lakes,
told and gray as steel or black with the
lhadow of the rainclouds By the wa­
ter’s margin the dark, sullen earth, with
its gorgeous clothing of purple and em­
broideries of emerald green, upheaves in
curious knolls and bosses or stretches
away in wind swept levels. The peaks
around take fantastic shapes, and in
twilight the place is like some region of
hades, where disembodied souls walk in
shadow and muse upon the mysteries
that death has unfolded to thorn.
Unoongenial as it appears to human
life, there are a few inhabitants of this
world of silent gloom and barren beauty.
Here and there the infrequent traveler
will come upon .an isolated cabin built
of rude stone and roofed with the sod,
hardly distinguishable from the heather
capped rock except for the curl of smoke
that steals through a hole from the
hearthstone within. On a summer morn­
ing an inquisitive explorer of this lone­
some world passed by one of these smok­
ing hovels, and while gazing on it in
dismay, almost expecting to see a gnome
or monster issue from it, was startled
by the appearance of an exquisite face
which shone on him for a moment and
vanished. The solitary rambler in so
eerie a spot was at the moment in an
imaginative mood, and open to all in­
fluences of the beautiful and supernat­
ural, and almost believed that a sprite
of the mountain had crossed his path,
and that she had a fateful message for
him in her eves, but shaking himself
into a more rational frame of mind he
went on his way, with only a lingering
look at the cabin, which seemed to re-
freat into the fastnesses of the rock.
Yet, in spite of common sense, the wild
beautiful eyes of the mountain girl pur­
sued him, the message that lay a mys­
tery in their depths bewitched him, and
finally, as the sun shot forth long shafts
of flame and glances of gold, setting
fierily behind a cluster of blackening
mountain peaks, he turned upon his
heel and retraced his steps in the direc
tion of the enchanted hovel.
Macha, the owner of the beautiful
face, had withdrawn it hastily into the
interior of the cabin, scared at the un­
wonted sight of a stranger, as lowland
dwellers might be scared by a ghost
The cabin was so poor that, only for the
red hearth and the warm smell of smoko,
it might have been mistaken for a shed
for cattle. The earthen floor was un­
even and full of holes; the roof, of
heather and sticks, was blackened with
smoke; tho hearthstone was broken.
One crazy table, one chair and two or
three other nondescript seats, a kettle,
a pot, a battered tin can, and a few
mugs and plates—these were the chief
contents of the dwelling’s principal
room. Looking around, one might well
ask by what means life could be sup­
ported in this place. Patches of pota­
toes that struggled for existence between
bog and rock close by, and a black cut­
ting, that showed like an ugly wound
on the face of a distant level and was
the turf mine—these gave the only an­
swer to such inquiry.
An old woman sat spinning in the
corner of the cabin, lean and smoke
dried, liko a mummy, her dark red gar­
ment and the yellow handkerchief
wound turban wise round her head
making a spot of subdued color in the
murky picture. The contents of a pot
of potatoes had been turned out on the
table, and Macha, who, with a peculiar
cry, had summoned the family from
their work at the bog to dinner, stood
on tho middle of the floor, with a slant
light falling on her from the sky, across
the mountain peaks, through the smoke
stained doorway. Her skirt of crimson
wool, spun by the grandame in the cor­
ner, and dyed with madder by Macha
herself, was short enough to show her
white feet, shining on the earthen floor.
Over it she wore a short brown bodice,
and a few yards of coarse yellow white
calico were wound about her shoulders
and had been about her head, but the
drapery had fallen back in a sort of !
cowl behind her neck.
No white lily or golden rose was ever
so beautiful as the face of Macha,
crowned with its honey colored hair,
set with eyes dark and blue, with a
look half sweet, half troubled, a rose
red mouth, tinted to match flowers the
girl had never seen, and creamy, satin
smooth, dimpled cheeks. The way in
which her head was set on her shoul­
ders, the pose of her figure and the
movements of her white bare arms re­
called the goddesses in marble of the j
early Greeks. With her almost super- |
human beauty, where had Macha come
from—to battle with the elements for
life, to grow sun tanned, weather beat­
en, lean and withered in tho struggle to
force the potato out of the rock and
peat out of the reeking bog.
What was she doing in this dreary
upper world of the barren Irish hills.
How could she be the granddaughter of
the unlovely crone in tho corner, and
why had generations of ignorance and
hunger and rude toil produced her? It
must be that nature had created her for
a whim, making her a 6ort of image of
the wild beauty of this picturesque wil­
derness.
The afterglow of the sunset was
abroad when Macha went out again, to
roam round the lake in a fashion of her
own. A strange amber and red reflec­
tion illuminated one side of the sky and
the mountain peaks, intensified by
gloomy fringes trailing along the hori­
zon. Delicate green tints overspread the
other, and in this fairer skyey field had
blossomed the round white moon, bright­
ening momentarily and shining among
the early stars like a lily among daisies.
Earth and heaven were pictured in the
lake—the gemmed meadows and lurid­
ly illuminated deserts on high, the
blackening hills ai d the moving shapes
of orange, brown and purple that caught
and rent the fringes of the approaching
night
Macha clasped her hands over her
head and gazed round her half fearfully,
enjoying and understanding the beauty
of it all. She had heard of a shining
city beyond the gold and silver gates of
the sun and tho moon, also of earthly
cities, wonderful, too, but not so beau­
tiful, that lay down below the moun­
tains in the busy world of men. She
meant to go to the one, but 6he did not
care to visit the others. Her mountain
homo, with its inhabitants, contained
the desires of her heart. The old brown
crucifix on the cabin wall was her pass­
port. to the final happy destination of all
patient souls, whither she and all she
loved would depart when tho Master
should send them a message to coma
Nothing natural or supernatural dis­
mayed or disgusted her. If there were
spirits in the rocks and fairies in the
lake, the Almighty knew what they
were doing there, and everything was
all for the best.
“Macha, come in,” called her mother
from the cabin. “Something will get
you.”
“Aye, mother, I am coming,” said
Macha, but still she lingered, looking
hard at a piece of rock that seemed to
be taking the shape of “something.”
The clouds are alive and move and
change—why should not the rocks?
Suddenly a living person seemed to
emerge out of the rock and come beside
her, and, startled, she would have fallen
into the lake had not a strong arm seized
her and swung her into safety.
“Holy mother! I nearly drowned
you!” cried Macha, looking at the same
traveler who had passed the cabin in the
morning.
“I nearly drowned you,” said the
stranger, gazing in wonder at her beau­
ty, which seemed to have become almost
unearthly, as tho still warm glow from
one side irradiated her hair, and the
greenish moonlight from tho other whit­
ened her round check and the drapery of
her shoulder.
“I thought you were—him who lives
down in the lake,” whispered Macha.
“Who is he?”
Sho looked all round in the air, and
her lovely face caught a thousand reflec­
tions of flitting colors and lights. Then
she signed with her hand toward the
lake.
“The water is deep,” she said, “and
there is many a thing down there. But
you are a living man, for I saw yon iu
the morning. ”
The person addressed felt a strange
thrill as she spoke and put out her round
gleaming arm and touched his hand
with her warm fingers, as if to assure
herself that her own words were true,
and that he was indeed a living man.
“And you aro a living woman, ” he
said. “I almost thought you were a
spirit moving along the edge of the
lake. Why do you keep 60 close to the
edge? I thought I saw you walking on
the water. ”
“I like to look in and see what I can
see, ’ ’ said the girl mysteriously.
“Doyon aways walk here in the even­
ings?”
“Yes, and sometimes a bit at dawn.
Mother says something wicked will meet
me. But I have only met you, and yon
are not wicked. ”
“I am not as good as I ought to be, ”
said the man tremulously, answering
the look of simple faith and approval iu
“But I have only met you, and you arc
not wicked.”
the girl’s wonderful eyes. “But I hope
I am not altogether wicked,” and the
strangeness of his own humility es­
caped his notice.
“I do not much believe in wickedness
myself, ” said Macha, “except, of course,
in the great dhiaoul” (devil), crossing
herself. “But he will never hurt me
unless I do something wrong. ”
“What do you see when you walk
here in the dawn?”
“I see the blessed spirits trooping up
and down the skies. Anybody could see
them. Sometimes they come down upon
the hills, but they change into white
clouds and run away when they come
too near me. There is my mother call­
ing me, and the supper is ready. ”
“By what name is she calling you?”
“Macha is my name. If you will eat
a few potatoes, I will bring them out to
yon. ”
“I am not hungry, Macha, and I am
going back to the inn. But if you offer
me some another day I will take them. ”
The girl went in to her mother, an«
the stranger returned through the
brightening moonlight down the’rugged
mountain, retracing the steps he had
made in the morning. The inn lay un­
der the hills, a few miles below the
wild region where Macha had been born,
in which she had grown to womanhood,
eating the potatoes she had helped to
produce and watching the blessed spir­
its trooping up and down the skies.
“Something will get you,” said
Macha's mother for the hundredth time
as the girl appeared for her supper, and
she was not wrong, for fate had got
hold of Macha.
Strange and unaccountable are the
'whims of men. Here was one with
wealth and rank, accustomed to all that
is cultivated, witty and beautiful among
women, and yet, having gone fancy free
till rather a late period of bachelorhood,
he had climbed a savage mountain in
an isolated corner of what he considered
an uncivilized country, to fall iu love
with a wild girl with a wild name,
who lived upon potatoes in a hovel un­
der a rock!
And he did not feel ashamed of him­
self. Contrast and inconsistencies had
always possessed a fascination for him.
Did not the spotless white flower of tho
bog flourish there as purely as though
it had not sprang out of the black slimy
substance that held its root? And Macha,
with her shining bare feet and arms,
and her face like a poet’s dream, was
all the more enchanting to his imagina­
tion because she had sprung, with her
spontaneous loveliness, out of the moun­
tain and had been nourished and per­
fected between tho wind and the sun
without help from “civilization” or a
lesson from “art. ”
He was going back to the inn that he
might have further opportunities of see­
ing this girl, and yet he told himself
that his admiration for her was merely
an abstract idea; that after he had seen
her a few times and studied her excep­
tional beauty and character he would
go on his way contented, rejoicing to
have perceived that nature can be still
so lovely and unspoiled in her own se­
cret fastnesses, beyond the ken of the
world. His rest was broken that night
by a new excitement, and he wakened
in the dawn to fancy he saw Macha
walking with her bare white feet in
the rosy light round the margin of tho
lake. He wanted to hear her voice again
and feel the touch of her hand. It
struck him as remarkable that sho had
shown no shyness of him, speaking to
him as naturally as if he had been her
brother, and he divined that this was so
because she knew nothng of ranks and
classes. Only the supernatural had pow­
er to awe her, and she had felt safe and
happy os soon as she had assured herself
that he was a living man. Accustomed
to tho attentions of women, he would
have felt less attraction toward Macha
had she shown any desire for his return.
The absence of all coquetry in her de­
lighted him.
The girl thought of him, lying on her
straw bed in the dead of the night
There was a hole in the roof above her
head, a hole that would be thatched over
with heather for tho winter, but at
present it -was good to let in tho air of
heaven. Through it Macha could see a
star shining in the sky, like a little is­
land of splendor in an ocean of dark
blue, and tho ragged twigs of the broken
heather made a rough frame for the bit
of glory. The beauty of Macha’s face
lay quenched in darkness beneath, but
her soul escaped through the opening
up to the kindred mystery of the star,
carrying with it tho memory of the
event of the evening. Her mind rested
with placid wonder on tho occurrence
of her meeting with the stranger. She
had not fallen in love with him, as he
with her, nor did she dream of such a
thing.
Roundabout her lay her mother, her
grandmother, her little sisters, sleeping
soundly, with the love of Macha asleep
in their hearts. She loved them passion­
ately and had no thought or hope for
herself apart from them. To work with
them, hand and foot, that they might
all have enough potatoes and turf to
enable them to live together without
more pain than they could endure—this
was the one object of her existence.
Vague splendors and delicious rest and
joy were, she knew, awaiting them all
beyond the gates of the sun. The only
thing to be desired was that they might
not be parted meanwhile in their pur­
gatory on the lonely mountain. As the
night crept on and the stars waxed
brighter Macha owned to herself that
the “living man” might have been
“him who lives down in the lake, ” after
all. Pondering this doubt, she fell
asleep.
The stranger reappeared next day and
for many days afterward haunted the
mountain. Macha had leave from her
mother to accompany him in his search
for the wild flowers which, he explained
to them, he wanted for scientific pur­
poses. The little sisters frisked about
them and took their share in the search,
dancing like young kids on the edge of
precipices, with wild bright eyes and
flying locks. Potatoes boiled in the
cabin were eaten on the heather, and the
long summer days went past like the
beads on a goldpn rosary, told brightly
through the fingers. The man was broth­
erly and kind with the little girls and
the elder women, but he recognized a
gulf between them and Macha.
Their speech, translated literally from
the Irish, though poetical and musical
enough, was not delicately correct, as
his ear imagined hers to be. Their
swift feet were not white, nor was their
clothing spotless. Macha, who bathed
in the lake every morning and hung I
out her yellow hair to dry in the first
beams of the sun, and who wore her
well bleached draperies like a princess,
could not keep young nor old from dye­
ing their skins and garments in the bog 1
holes. An instinctive personal delicacy
had come to Macha with her exceptional
beauty. At the end of a fortnight the
stranger told himself that t his moun­
tain floweT was worthy of being trans­ !
planted into the brightest parterre ever
cherished by man. And what a month
ago would have appeared to him only
madness seemed now most sensible.
Macha came into tho cabin one even-
ing in the gloaming with a face of dis-
for Infants and Children.
HIRTY year»' ob«ervation of Ca«toria_withth« j>atre>aqge^f
T
million» ofprwai, permit
ob
to « p ea k of it withont fi Msti g.
It 1» nnqne.tionably the be«t remedy for Infants and Children
It is harmless. Children like it. It
the world has ever known.
gives them health. It will save thoir lives.
In it Mothers have
something which is ahsolntely safe Q"d praotjgfUv perfect a» a
child's medicine.
Castoria destroys Worms
Castoria allay Feverishness.
Castoria prevent» vomiting Sonr Cnrd.
Castoria cure« Diarrhoea and Wind Colio.
Castoria relievo» Teething Troubles.
Castoria cures Constipation and Flatulency.
Castoria neutrali»e» the effects of carbonic acid ga» or poisonou» air.
Ca»toria doc» not contain morphine, opium, or other narcotic property.
Castoria assimilates the food, regulates the «tomach and bowel»,
giving healthy and natural sleep.
Castoria is put np in one-size bottles only. It is not sold In .bulk.
Don't allow any ono to sell yon anything else on the plea or pr—1»»
that it i» “just as good " and “ will answer every purpose
Seo that yon get C-A-S-T-O-R-I-A.
The fao-simile
wrapper.
signature of -
Children Cry for Pitcher's Castoria.
THE INTER OCEAN
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may.
“Mother!” she said, grasping her
mother’s arm. .
“What is on you, child?”
“The sassenach is asking me to go
away with him. ’ ’
“Away with him?”
“He wants to give me a satin gown
and a ring and to take me to his home. ”
“Well, mavourneen,” with a long
sigh, “if he makes you a true wife and
is good to you, you would be better with
him than here.”
“Mother, ” cried the girl passionate­
ly, “have J vexed you, have I angered
you, that you would turn me from your
door?”
7b be Continued.
The suprene court of Minnesota
has rendered a decision of decided
interest to bicyclists all over the
country. A few months ago M. A.
Thompson was driving along a Min­
nesota county road and met Wm.
Dodge on a bicycle. Mr. Thompson's
horse saw the bicj’cle, ran away,
smashed the buggy to splinters and
injured Mr. Thompson. The latter
brought suit for heavy damages, but
the supreme court has decided in
favor of the bicyclist. Judge Buck
says in his decision: ‘ ‘Bicycles are
vehicles used very extensively for
convenience, recreation, pleasure
and business, and the riding of them
upon a public highway in an ordinary
manner as is now done, is neither
unlawful nor prohibited, and they
cannot be banished because they are
not ancient vehicles and not used in
the Garden of Eden by Adam and
Eve.”— Oregon City Enterprise.
I
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Its yearly subscription
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47-8
TWENTY PERCENT DISCOUNT SALE!!
♦
We make no exceptions of staple goods, (as
other merchants do) in our discount sale, for the
reason that all our goods are marked as low
as staples.
From now until January ist we offer
OUR ENTIRE STOCK
AT TWENTY PER GENT DISCOUNT.
We have on hand an immense line of CLOTH­
ING, OVERCOATS, MACKINTOSHES, FURNISH­
ING GOODS, HATS, SHOES, Etc., and they all go
in this great sale.
Don’t fail to Compare Our Prices cuith Others Before You Buy Elseiuhere.
Kay- & Todd.
KAY & TODD.